Paper Walls - 7. Chapter 7

After we finish eating breakfast, my dad looks at me. "Feel like going to the field and tossing the ball around for a little while?"

"Do you like to eat steak?" I ask.

He just grins. "That's my boy. Last toss around for a few weeks, until we can get school, practice, and games in a good pattern."

I run upstairs and throw on a different tank top, and grab an extra pair of shorts, boxers, and tank top. I always have to shower after we toss the ball around. We can go for hours, and I sweat like there is no tomorrow. I run back down the stairs, and my dad is kissing my mom goodbye.

"You seem excited," Dad says, as we get into his SUV.

"Dude, its football!"

My dad shakes his head. "Boy, if only everyone was as easy to please as you are, my life would be simple."

"Eh....can't make everyone happy, Dad," I tell him.

"Well, I have learned over the years...happy wife...happy life," he says with a smirk.

We pull up to the field, and I notice the weight room is open. "You leave that open?"

"On the weekends, one of the coaches comes up and leaves it open. We have cameras in there, so if anything is vandalized, we know who it was. Plus, the players love to lift and vent out their frustration. You will learn soon enough, Son."

"Cool. I will be waiting for you on the field!" I tell him.

I can see into the weight room from the field, and I see Shawn, Garret, and Callen in the weight room. Looks like Callen is just along for the ride, as I see Shawn and Garret take turns lifting, and then I see them lower the weight for Callen.

I finally see my dad walk onto the field and I hold up my hands as he tosses the ball towards me. I catch it clean and easy. "Ready, old man?" I yell back as a joke.

"Come on with it, hot shot," he says, grinning.

I lob a perfect spiral hitting him right in his waiting hands. "Good one," he says, and fires it back at me.

I watch as he runs a post rout and I nail him dead on, and he tosses it back and I run to meet the ball in my hands, and I take a few steps back and fire it right back at him. It's a drill he made up for me a few years ago. He called it rapid fire. It gets hard. As soon as you touch the ball, you have to take two steps back and throw it right back, and that means the person could be anywhere on the field.

We do this for about fifteen minutes and my dad calls a time out.He walks over to me and hands me a water bottle. "You’re getting better on coming off the ball," he says.

"I love this practice. It assimilates into the real game. The pressure to hurry and throw the ball equals to the other team rushing you," I tell him, taking a drink.

He just smiles. "You couldn't have said it better.

"Looks like you have some admirers," he says, nodding his head over to the fence.

I look to where he nodded, and I see all three of the guys watching us. Garret says something to Shawn and they shake, and I watch the two brothers leave. Shawn watches for a few seconds more, and then he starts jogging around the track.

We resume tossing the ball back and forth for another fifteen minutes, and Dad tells me he has some paperwork he needs to get done before school tomorrow. I tell him I am going to get some cardio in, as he walks into the building. I start off with suicide drills, and make it across the field in no time. I watch Shawn, still jogging around the track. At this point, I am soaked in sweat. I toss my tank top off and make one more run up and down the field.

I sprint back to where my shirt and water bottle are, and make my way into the locker room. I see Dad set out a towel with my spare clothes. I strip off my shorts and boxers and wrap the towel around my waist to head into the showers.

I let the warm water hit me, and it feels so good. I hear another shower start up. I start to tense up and look over, and I see Shawn with a towel around his waist. "Hey," he says, looking at me.

"Hey," I tell him.

I go back to showering and I can hear the water hit his skin, so I take a look, and I have to bite my lip. He looks gorgeous as the water cascades down his back around his bubble butt. I can't pry my eyes away as he grabs the shampoo and starts to work it in his hair. I notice he has a bit of underarm hair, and he is smooth everywhere else. He turns around and I look away, but I take another peek and he has his eyes closed, and I can't help it.

My eyes travel down his six pack to his dick, it's not even hard. He is half hard, but it looks huge. I feel myself start to get hard, so I tear away my eyes and focus on the wall in front of me.

"So we were all watching you and Coach throw the ball back and forth. I knew you were good, man, but fuck, that was intense watching you," he says.

"Oh, the drill we were doing?" I ask, as my voice cracks, and I mentally curse myself.

He laughs. "Yeah, that looked pretty hard," he says.

I can feel myself blushing. "Yeah, it was just something he made up a long time ago," I say, cutting off the water and grabbing my towel, and wrapping it securely around my waist.

I rush to my locker, where my clothes are waiting, and slip on my boxers. I feel so ashamed that I got hard in the showers which I have never done before, I hear him walk into the locker room as well.

I feel him get closer to me, "Hey, how'd you get this scar?" he asks, touching my waist and tracing the long scar.

I jerk my body away. "I don't know," I tell him.

"Okay man, sorry, just saw it and wondered. So, you ready for school tomorrow?" he asks, walking to his locker.

"Not really," I say, sitting down at my locker.

I can't help but watch as he drops his towel and his smooth bubble butt comes into view again. He bends down to put on his boxers, and I almost pass out. I can see his hole, and I instantly pop a boner, plus his balls are smooth as well. I get up and put on my shorts and sit back down, trying to hide my boner by putting my shirt on my lap.

"Why not, man?"

"Just nervous. I don't know too many people except guys from the team, and y’all are all older than me," I tell him.

"Well, Callen told me you and he met yesterday Well, he was actually kind of star struck, to be honest. He was really hyped about meeting you. He is a cool kid he is your age, man."

"Yeah. Garret doesn't hate me, but doesn't particularly like me, and seems like Callen is always around Garret."

"It's ‘cause Callen hero worships. Garret is his big brother, man. Besides, he thinks you're a football god. He isn't anything like Garret. That, and Garret is different when he's off the field," Shawn laughs.

I smile. "But you think he will be a good friend?"

"For sure, he is a cool dude, plus man, you got me and my little brother," he says.

"I got it from before I was adopted," I say.

He looks at me confused. "The scar?"

"Yeah. I don't know how I got it, though, and that part is true," I tell him.

My dad comes in the locker room. "Shawn, good to see you. How's your brother? He feeling better?"

"Yes sir," he says.

"Good, saw you in the weight room with Garret. Do not over exert yourself. Lifting is good, but no maxing out!"

"No sir, I won't."

"You have work this evening?"

"Yes sir, I was just getting ready. My shift starts soon," Shawn says.

"Well, finish up. I will lock up and drop you off."

"Thank you, Coach."

I follow Dad out and help him lock up the weight room. "What's on your mind?"

"Nothing." I tell him, and lock the last door and walk over to him.

"You know you can't lie, correct?"

I just smirk. "Nothing, Dad. Just kind of embarrassed about something," I tell him.

"Teenagers. They are embarrassed over everything," he says to no one and walks away.

I let Shawn sit up front, and I take the back seat. I try to text Jeremy to tell him what had happened before we left, but he hasn't texted back yet. It’s Sunday, he should have. He always texts back.

"Jeremy hasn't texted me back," I tell my dad.

"Maybe he is with a girlfriend," my dad says.

"No, Dad. He doesn't have one. He would have told me," I say, rolling my eyes.

"I saw that," my dad says.

"You and Jeremy are really that close?" Shawn asks.

"Yeah, man," I tell him.

"Jeremy is like a second son to me. With that boy, there's never a dull moment. He is very smart, but not so bright at times," my dad says, laughing.

"That's cool of him," Shawn says, and I swear I detect a hint of jealousy.

"Dad," I say.

"Ryder! You are going to have to accept he is still going to move on with his life," he says, and I know the conversation is over.

I don't say anything else for the whole ride. My dad and Shawn talk about random things. A lot about the football team, and Shawn asks my dad if he actually likes art. Boy, does he ask for it. My dad drones on and on about it.

We finally drop Shawn off, and I scoot up to the front seat, and buckle up. My dad starts to drive away, and he looks over at me. "What has gotten into you?"

"What do you mean?" I ask.

"Ryder, you are acting like a thirteen year old lately. You are acting so insecure about everything you do. I didn't raise you to be an insecure boy. Look, I know it has been hard, and you don't know many kids your age, but school starts tomorrow, and I am sure you will be popular. You are going to have to accept the fact that Jeremy will be living his life with or without you! Now knock off this baby crap. If you are having that much of a hard time, I will make an appointment for you to see a therapist this week," he says.

"I'm sorry. Look, I don't know what it is, okay? I just haven't experienced this in my life! So excuse me if I am insecure about this whole huge move to where I don't know anyone or anything here. I mean, Shawn saw a scar on my waist and asked what it was. Yeah, I got a little freaked out. I told Shawn, ’Oh, it's nothing. Well, in fact, I don't know how I actually got it, but it's from before I became the Coach's son.’ Plus, I am having dreams of being jumped and shit that are coming back to me, but I don't know what it all is, and my best friend is MIA, and I am in some new town where half the football team doesn't even want me on it, even though I am really good, probably better than any of them, and my own father has decided I'm not even starting! So, sorry that I am stressed out, and acting strange and acting emotional, when I don't even know if you have a clue what emotions are!" I say, taking a breath.

"You done?" my dad asks.

"Yes," I say.

"Good, give me your phone. You’re grounded," he says, holding out his hand.

I open my mouth, but close it. I don't say anything else. I hand my phone over to him....we don't speak for the rest of the ride home. He parks and I am out of the car before he puts it in park. "Ryder," he says, and I stop.

"I get it, okay? I do," he says.

I shake my head. "No, you don't. You think you can just send me to a shrink, and I will be the superstar boy that you always wanted -- that I'll be fixed. Fine, I get it, Coach. I am too emotional. Maybe it's because I am gay. So, forgive me for wanting to know why I am having nightmares, or wanting to talk to my best friend because he is a comfort to me." I know I hit a nerve with him, and I walk into the house.

I pass by my mom, who is on the couch. "Hey, what's wrong?"

"Nothing!" I say, forcing the tears back.

She gets up. "Sweetie, tell me," she says, trying to hug me.

I put my hands up. "No, please, just no. I'm just being a baby!" I say, shooting a look at my dad as he comes in the door.

I slam my door, and fling myself onto my bed and let myself cry. I am so tired of this. I can't be the perfect son, and I just want to go back home. I hate it here. I know I probably am being a brat; it's just, I don't know what to do with my situation. I want friends, I want to be accepted, but what if no one else wants me?

I don't know when I fall asleep, but I wake up to my mom rubbing my back, "Hey, sweetie."

"I'm sorry for earlier," I tell her.

"It's ok," she says, kissing my forehead.

I look up and see my dad in the door way he walks over and sits beside me on the bed. "Ryder, I am sorry. You’re right. I didn’t realize the situation. I do understand how hard this has to be on you. I know Jeremy was your safety blanket back home, and I promise you will fit in here. I only mention the therapist because I don't know how else to deal with the mental battles that you go through. We are never going to leave you or love you any less," my dad says, giving me a hug.

"I'm sorry, Dad." I tell him.

"It's fine. Here, take your phone. Look, I have to go back to Dallas for a few days. Some things have come up. I have already talked to the coaches. Practice is still on, but Tuesday, you need to come straight home and skip practice, okay?" my dad says.

"Is everything okay?" I ask.

"We don't know yet, sweetie, my mom says.